The Fourth Chair
by anotherweasley
Summary: Post Tim's confession in the movie.
1. Death

The Fourth Chair  
By: Olivia  
  
Chapter 1  
  
"Truth will come to light; murder cannot be hid long."-Shakespeare  
  
  
Frank continued walking towards the door back inside the building. Tim trailed further and further behind. Frank needed time to think, to process, all that Tim had confessed to him. A part of him hated Tim for putting this weight upon his shoulders. He hated Tim for killing Luke Ryland. Not that he cared about Ryland. Ryland was a worthless scum from all that Frank knew about the man. But Tim should have never compromised himself in this way.   
  
Then Frank realized just how much anguish was mixed up with his anger. Here he was carrying Tim's burden for what, fifteen minutes? Tim had been carrying it for months. His friend had fallen and fallen hard. Frank should have seen that something was wrong when he first saw Tim. It had been over a year since he had seen Tim, but this was his partner. Tim was right. Frank didn't know him. People change. And yet Tim hadn't changed. He was still the same sensitive guy that Frank had known. This murder bothered Tim.   
  
And out of every person in Tim's life, he chose Frank to confess to. When he thought about it, it really was not a surprise. The only surprise here was that after so long of trying to keep Tim at a distance, to keep him away, Tim still turned to Frank for help. Maybe deep down Tim believed that Frank cared about him. Six years of being partnered together had to count for something right? Or maybe Tim just couldn't accept that Frank didn't care. Either way, Tim trailed after Frank liked a wounded dog trailing after its master. Dog-a man's best friend.  
  
Frank pulled Tim's badge out of his pocket and studied it for a moment. He felt the metal and leather backing. Tim could turn in his badge as he had in fact done. Maybe this was all for the best for Tim. Tim had chosen to be a detective but maybe it was not meant to be. His problem was always that he cared too much about the victims. He was too sensitive and didn't have that professional distance that one needed on a job like this. Tim let the dead haunt him for justice. When he fell short of his task, he blamed himself. He didn't understand how sometimes solving murderers was more a matter of luck than of skill. If the evidence wasn't there, it wasn't there. Tim wanted to save the world and it had all led to this. If Tim was guilty of anything it was of feeling too much. You can't convict a man of that. Frank wasn't about to. Murder was murder plain and simple. But this was Tim, his partner, they were talking about. The thought of Tim, a cop, in prison made Frank sick to his stomach. He couldn't turn him in. He would carry Tim's secret.  
  
At the sound of the hammer of a gun being cocked back, Frank felt the cold metal of Tim's badge course through his veins.  
  
No, God, no, Frank pleaded silently. I should have taken the gun away.  
  
Frank spun. With only a second he took in the scene. Tim, tears coursing silently down his face, started to bring the gun up to his own face. Frank threw himself at Tim. Frank was still trying to wrestle the gun from Tim's hand when the sound of a single gunshot pierced the still October night air. 


	2. After Life

The Fourth Chair   
By: Susan Olivia  
Chapter 2  
  
"All argument is against it, but all belief is for it."-Samuel Johnson  
  
  
Frank felt a small hand being placed into his. He opened his eyes to the squad room. He looked down to see a small girl looking up at him smiling.  
  
"Are you Tim Bayliss' partner?"  
  
Frank nodded mechanically. This was unbelievable. He had seen pictures, pictures that lacked the light, the spark he saw in this girl. "Adena?"  
  
The girl's look went pensive for a moment before she said, "Can you tell him I'm okay?"  
  
Frank nodded once again. The response seemed to satisfy the little girl who smiled and skipped off. All Frank could do was stare at her until she rounded a corner and disappeared. He had to be dreaming. It had to be another little girl who just happened to look like Adena Watson.  
  
"Frank!"  
  
Frank looked to his right, startled. Gee came storming out of his office like a water buffalo and rushed up to Frank.  
  
Frank opened his mouth to ask Gee about Adena, about the little girl, he corrected himself mentally. At least with Gee there was a familiar face. And then Frank remembered the shooting. "I heard you were awake. Umm, should you be out of the hospital so soon? Shouldn't you be resting?"  
  
Gee shrugged and smiled enigmatically. "I feel fine. Couldn't be better. C'mon. I've got some people you'll want to see again."  
  
Gee led Frank into the squad kitchen. Frank stopped suddenly when he saw who was seated at the table. Gee took a seat.  
  
"Hi Frank," said Steve with a smile. "We've got a seat for you." Steve indicated the empty fourth chair with his hand.  
  
"Frank," Beau said with an acknowledgment nod.  
  
"I do not believe this," said Frank in full blown denial at what his eyes were telling him. "I'm not dead."  
  
"Frank...," said Gee sympathetically.  
  
"No I'm not dead! This is all just a figment of my imagination!" said Frank, his voice getting louder.  
  
"Frank, you're just going to have to accept this," said Steve as he took a sip of coffee.  
  
"What about Mary and the kids? Who'll watch after them?" said Frank as his thoughts turning despairingly back to his family.  
  
"It's like how I felt about leaving Beth and the kids. But you've done all you can, Frank. It's not like you had a choice in leaving them. You can do nothing more now. You have to let it go. What will be will be," said Beau taking a drag of his cigarette.  
  
"How did I even....?" But then it all came rushing back to Frank. Tim. The struggle for the gun. The gun going off. "I can't believe the son of a bitch shot me."   
  
The other three exchanged glances. They didn't want to encourage Frank to keep thinking about his life as it was but curiosity got the better of them.  
  
"Who shot you, Frank?" asked Steve as he started to deal Frank into their card game.  
  
"Tim," said Frank quietly and yet his voice was full of emotion.  
  
"Tim? Tim Bayliss? Sensitive Tim Bayliss? Your own partner shot you?" asked Beau increduosly. In fact they were all floored by this news.  
  
"He didn't mean to. He was trying to kill himself. I was trying to take the gun away from him. It went off accidentally," explained Frank.  
  
"You sacrificed yourself for your friend and partner. There's nothing more heroic, Frank," said Gee.  
  
Frank looked at Gee, Steve, and Beau. He really looked at them. And then he realized that he was in the same room with three people he thought he would never get a chance to speak to again. Tim was right-he would always be a cop. Even in death he couldn't escape that cold hard fact. As much as he tried to be a loner and to keep everyone at a distance, these detective-dead and alive-were as much his family as Mary and the kids.  
  
"We, Tim and I, we found your killer, Gee. We caught him and brought him in," said Frank.  
  
Gee just grinned. "I knew you would. As soon as Michael told me you were back working with Tim, I knew everything would be okay. You were all good murder police."  
  
"That's the thing about you, Frank," began Beau, "as much as we joked and harassed you about your anti-social, stuck up behavior, the truth is you're a great detective. You change the names from red to black. You're a natural at this job, just like Crossetti here, and Howie and Bolander. If there's anyone we would want to work on our homicide, it's you Frank. You solved Gee's murder and you solved mine. They wouldn't have gone down if not for you."   
  
It was the highest compliment one homicide detective could give to another and so even Frank with all his bluster could not helped but be touched by it.  
  
"And being in full dress uniform for my funeral was, well it was kind of you," said Steve unsure of how to express his gratitude.  
  
Frank slumped into the vacant chair at the table and looked at the three again. Well it was an interesting way to spend eternity, he thought.  
  
"Can I get you a cup of coffee?" asked Steve trying to help Frank feel better.  
  
Frank opened his mouth to say that he couldn't because of the stroke when he realized that he was dead and that it didn't matter anymore. Frank's face broke into a smile. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. "Yeah, sure, I'll have a cup."  
  
Steve smiled and got up from the table. As he was walking over to the coffee pot, Frank asked, "So did you finally find out who shot Lincoln?"  
  
Steve opened his mouth to reply as he was pouring the coffee, but before he could say anything, the metal supporting Frank's chair buckled and broke underneath of him sending Frank crashing to the floor.  
  
Beau, Steve, and Gee moved over to help him when they realized that Frank was starting to disappear.  
  
"Hey wait!" said Frank when he realized that he could barely see the three anymore.  
  
"Another time," said Steve with a smile.  
  
"Take care of yourself, Frank," said Gee.  
  
"See ya, Frank." Beau's voice was the last thing Frank heard. 


	3. Life

The Fourth Chair  
By: Olivia  
Chapter 3  
  
"If a man urged me to tell wherefore I loved him, I feel that it cannot be expressed by answering: Because it was he, because it was myself."-Michael De Montaigne-Essays  
  
  
"Frank! Frank! Can you hear me?! Speak to me Frank!"  
  
A hand pressed into his. There were bright lights. Everything was a blur to Frank and yet despite it all he could still pick Tim's voice out of the many that were speaking.  
  
Frank finally forced his eyes completely open. Where was he? An ambulance? He was definitely being transported somewhere, most likely to a nearby hospital. Strangers were poking and prodding him. Finally a familiar face came into view.  
  
Frank could plainly read the fear in Tim's eyes. Fear, guilt, and shame were all mixed into one. His eyes were red-rimmed from crying. "I'm so sorry, Frank. God, I'm so sorry. I called Mary. She's going to meet us at the hospital. I'm so sorry, Frank."  
  
Frank was able to muster enough strength to squeeze Tim's hand. In spite of it all, in spite of Frank wanting to be angry with Tim, he couldn't be angry with him. If he was angry with anyone it was himself. Maybe if he had kept in better touch with Tim, maybe if he had been the type of partner Tim felt he could turn to in troubling times, none of this would have happened.  
  
Frank flashed back to the time when Tim took that bullet for him. He had been sitting where Tim was sitting now, praying for his partner to be okay, to live. Frank had taken a bullet for Tim and this was square business. And yet even if Tim had never taken a bullet for Frank, Frank would not have done a damn thing differently. He had tried to save Tim's life. He had accomplished that for now.  
  
Suddenly all movement stopped and Frank realized that they were at the hospital. Cold air rushed in as the doors flew open and the paramedics rushed Frank's stretcher out of the ambulance.  
  
"You're gonna have to stay back, sir," said one of the nurses as she tried to disengage Frank's hand from Tim's.   
  
But Frank was not letting go. He had to speak to Tim. The nurse realized it was useless and allowed Tim to run with them as they hurried down the corridors to get Frank into the operating room. Tim leaned his head down close to Frank.  
  
Frank finally got his lips to move and found his voice. Weakly, he said, "It is not for me to forgive you, it's God. But I forgive you, Tim. Don't say anything to anyone. We'll work this out Tim, okay? Together will work this out."  
  
The nurse finally disengaged their hands when they reached the operating room. Frank was wheeled in and the doctors began operating.   
  
Tim stood alone and watched his partner silently as the operating room doors closed. He moved to the window to watch like a sentry or a hovering angel. In his memory, he still had vague recollections of Frank standing by his beside when he took that bullet a year ago that had been meant for Frank.  
  
And as Tim watched he realized that a small shard of hope had pierced his heart. Where before had been nothingness, something was there now. Tim didn't know how it would happen, but somehow he felt that things were going to be okay. Frank was going to be okay. He himself was going to be okay. He had nearly lost the one person who meant the most to him tonight. Frank had sacrificed himself to save his life. Tim realized in that instant that Frank, despite his being cold and aloof, cared deeply about him. In his heart he had known all along, but it was easy to forget not having seen or spoken to Frank in well over a year. Frank didn't care about Tim in the exact same way that Tim cared about him, but Frank cared. And that's why Tim knew everything would be okay- because he wasn't alone anymore. 


End file.
